


Business Lunch

by vocative



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-24
Updated: 2011-11-24
Packaged: 2017-10-26 12:04:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/282889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vocative/pseuds/vocative
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft, dedicated civil servant that he is, works through meals. Such a trial.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Business Lunch

Greg tightens his fingers in the hair at the nape of Mycroft's neck and shifts his body weight to tip them both further down the towncar bench seat. Mycroft pants roughly into his mouth in response and kisses him messily. Rain sluices down the windows and the car sways as the driver avoids potholes. Greg uses the motion to grind further down into Mycroft's lap. Mycroft slides his fingers further down the back of Greg's slacks to grab at his ass. He groans.

The rounding of the rain blocks out any sound other than their heavy breathing. Mycroft hauls Greg closer, and licks into his mouth. Greg braces his forearm against the door armrest, and rocks slowly against him. Their shirt buttons are catching on each other, and Mycroft has lost a shoe.

Mycroft keeps kissing Greg with his trademark focus, diverting only occasionally to mouth at his neck then work his way back to Greg's gasping lips. Their grinding increases in speed slowly, and the odd bumps in the road provide a nice counterpoint to their rhythm.

After the car completes a leisurely turn, the rain cuts off abruptly and the grey sky is replaced with concrete. Mycroft breaks his kiss and sighs. "Fuck me." says Greg, resting his forehead against Mycroft's.

"Sadly not now, it seems."

"Couldn't he have driven around the block a few more times? I had sexy plans for the next right turn."

Mycroft smiles at Greg and closes his eyes. "I fear that I must reschedule this lunch meeting, my dear, although in favor of a much less pleasant one."

"Damn right, less pleasant," mutters Greg. He unlaces his fingers from behind Mycroft's neck and pushes himself upright again. Mycroft reaches under the seat in front of him and fetches a bag with a hairbrush and other odds and ends, and begins to straighten his collar. Greg hooks a foot around Mycroft's shoe and drags it close. He leans down and slides it half onto Mycroft's sock-clad foot. Mycroft spares him a fond glance and returns to the hand mirror conjured from his bag.

The driver is long gone, having slipped out into the parking garage while his passengers were otherwise occupied. Once Mycroft has set himself to, if not rights, then presentability, he leans sideways into Greg and rests his head briefly on his shoulder. "Alastair will return you to your office, of course."

"Yeah. Will I see you tonight? I read once that dinner meetings are much more conducive to successful business than lunch."

"For you, tonight, my schedule is clear."

**Author's Note:**

> I got bored and decided to porn in sheffiesharpe's direction. It didn't quite work out.


End file.
